What a sight we make
by blackkyu
Summary: Sequel to "To sleep in your arms", Jack always had a knack for finding trouble. But when a strange kid offers his shoulder to cry on during-and after-Jamie's deaths, he really has no idea what he's getting into. Perhaps it wasn't such a good idea, bringing Jamie to see the child, but Jack had promised his love he'd keep no more secrets, sadly, this secret was better left untold.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: I own naughta**

**What a strange sight we make…**

"You can see me?" Jack whispered, ice-cavern eyes wide in wonder as the blue eyed child (eyes so empty, so dull, yet full of…_something)_ stared blankly at him.

A second went by, and Jack waited with baited breath, watching as the dark orbs slowly, so very, very slowly, blinked, before the child nodded; causing a great grin to split across Jack's face. "You can see me!" he whooped, doing a back flip, a twirl, a slight jig, all under the watchful and ever blank stare of the child.

"So," the winter's child began after calming down, leaning on his staff, "what's your name kiddo?"

The child blinked, once again, to Jack's annoyance, slowly, before he replied, voice soft and void of almost everything but the barest amount of curiosity, "you have yet to introduce yourself."

"Ah," Jack grinned, slightly put out that the child could see him, yet for reason's unknown, did not _know_ him, "I'm Jack Frost, bringer of winter, and Guardian of Fun." And, to emphasis his point, he tapped his staff across the ground, creating frost and ice, and, incidentally, causing a couple of people to slip and fall, crying out in pain and annoyance, some even cussing, but the two ignored them, yes, even the one who held the cake, his misplaced step sending the object flying, only to be dive bombed by awaiting crows, which sent pieces of the delicious food everywhere, in people's eyes, hair, ears and nose(don't ask).

Yes, even when the child himself wound up coated in some of the stray icing, the two continued to ignore all else.

At least, that's what they would claim latter on. But, currently, with no one around to blackmail either of them later, Jack fell to the ice covered ground in laughter, rolling around in stray remnants of cake, though not noticing how some clung to him. The child, ever watching, smiled; sure, it wasn't anything most others could see, barely a centimeter long, but with the small light dancing in his eyes it was more than enough. Though, the moment Jack calmed down enough to brush himself off and look back to the child, the smile was quickly vanquished.

"Rion."

"Huh?"

"My name," the child confessed, tilting his head to the side, a rusty-red metal collar becoming visible, "I'm Rion."

"No last name?" Jack inquired, squinting at the child and wondering if it was his parents who put the collar on him (which would be so very, very wrong) or some sort of fashion statement (which would still be very, very wrong, one should not go about letting their child wander around with a dog collar around their neck! Did adults teach their kids nothing?)

"No," the child—Rion—shook his head, dirty blond hair falling into his ever dark-blue eyes before he glanced off somewhere to the left, "Jack," he whispered softly, causing the spirit to raise an eyebrow in question, "you are aware that you still have cake in your hair aren't you?"

"Wha?!" Jack almost screeched in embarrassment, quickly running his hands through his hair, barely registering how he only succeeded in smearing the cake, lodging it further into his scalp. "Did I get it?" he asked after a while, glancing up through snowy bangs.

"No," Rion stated, voice strangely quivering and jumping, small hands clenched and eyes frantically looking anywhere but at Jack, "you only made it worse."

The winter spirit blinked, staring at the strange child for a while before it clicked, a wide toothy grin sliding across his face, "I look a right mess huh?" he laughed, dancing into the child's line of sight, and moving again as Rion looked elsewhere.

"Ah, come on." Jack whined, hands on his hips, "It's been five years since I found my first believer, and I still only have like," Jack paused, counting softly allowed, "Twenty! And so I'm not seen fairly often, and I can't really touch anyone, and yet here you are, able to see me, and yet you blatantly ignore my existence!" Jack cried, barely registering the small flinch, "do you know how that makes me feel?"

The child let out a sigh, shoulders slumping, and Jack knew he won, standing proudly he watched with sparkling eyes as those dark, dark, cold—almost lifeless, dead—eyes turned to him, blinking slowly, then rapidly, as if trying to fight something off. Rion's shoulders began to quiver and he quickly placed his small—pale, Jack noted, almost as if the child had never seen the light of day—hands over his mouth; trying to stifle the small, light, almost non-existent laughter that bubbled up and poured from his lips, dark eyes lit with some inner lamp, swaying and bending as if held up by nothing more than a willow tree's branch.

"So," Jack drawled, floating around the silently laughing child, "you the type to laugh at other people's misfortune."

Alas, with a snap, Jack realized to late he had said the wrong thing, for the laughter vanished, that light dunked into the dark, horrid, death filled lake, before Rion turned and began to walk away. "Hey!" he called, racing after the rather fast child while plucking some stray cake from his hair, meshing it with his snowballs, and setting it loose.

Rion dodged, smoothly, easily, far too quickly, but the tension in his shoulders where gone, and he turned back, a small challenging fire sparking and flickering in his ever dark eyes, "Oh," the child whispered, soft voice laced with a dark, dark threat (the whole presence of the child was dark, so very, very dark, though he appeared so small, so thin, so frail…so pale) "you are so on."

And so the two fought, this time truly and completely ignoring those around them, yes, even the ones who stared openly and whispered and walked away hurriedly, trying to wipe from their minds the sight of a child, face appearing so very, very blank (though, really, he was smiling, the laughter back in his eyes) throwing snowballs at nothing…and having nothing return fire.

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**A/N: I know, weird, random, not really meaning much, but this idea wouldn't leave my head. I just had to write a scene where Rion (who has now been deposited into a child's body for reason's you might never know) meet Jack.  
**


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: I own naughta**

**Chapter two: Routine**

It hadn't taken long for the meeting of the two to become habit. Always in the same park, always ignoring stares and glares (all, obviously, directed at Rion), and always winding up ending with some sort of contest.

In fact, it had become such a natural thing that all residents knew exactly when they meet, and when they'd leave each other's company.

Rion and his mysterious 'nothing' had become another town mystery, accepted yet denied by all. Though, really, Jack chuckled as he chucked another snowball at someone's head, Rion silently doodling in the snow by his side, how it was people could claim adults weren't childish was beyond him.

After all, almost fifty percent of the adults he hit would either flip him the bird, cuss, or send a snowball flying back—always, of course, missing.

"Adults are nothing more than big children." Rion murmured, once again appearing to read Jack's mind (something that both annoyed and humored the teen greatly), "The only real difference is that they're in denial…and they have more dangerous toys."

Jack nodded in consideration, inwardly pleased that he'd managed to get the dead-child (the nickname seemed fitting, considering how the whole presence of the child was dark, cold, and dead—which, if he thought about it, was ironic) to speak to him so openly. "I guess that makes sense," he declared with a nod, swiping his staff across the ground, a grin lighting his pale face as a poor couple wound up flying backward into a trash can. "Though what type of toys are you talking about?" Jack innocently laughed; eyes bright from memories of children and North's workshop.

Rion stiffened for no more than a millisecond, eyes flashing with memories that reeked of blood, before he took a calming breath and allowed his hallow eyes to glance at the still grinning buffoon—as Rion had secretly began to call him.

Tapping thin fingers on the ice Rion allowed himself a small smile as he felt Jack's innocent gaze rest on the top of his bent head, "Guns, knives, bombs, cars, airplanes, whips, maces, high priced high heels, chain saws, axe's, lawn mowers—"

"Hold up!" Jack cried with a raise of his hand, ice-cavern eyes watching as the dead-child slowly raised his head, face carefully blank, "half of that stuff are weapons, and did I really just hear you classify high heels as a toy?"

The child allowed a small, dark, cold smile to grace his features, eyes flashing with well kept secrets, "You'd be surprised how depraved humanity can be."

If Rion hadn't been looking directly into Jack's eyes he would have missed the sudden flash of fear, of pain, that flooded into the ice-caverns and threatened to drown any poor soul who'd dared to take a peek at their beauty. For Jack had knowledge of how depraved humanity could be, one didn't live for around three hundred years and not notice such things, after all, one of his best friends * had been killed due to humanities inner darkness.

But it was Jack's job, as the Guardian of Fun, to look at the good things, to make things _fun_ and to make people smile. So the pain, the fear, it only lasted for an instant, before a teasing grin spread across his face, "Like a depraved apple." He laughed as Rion blinked in confusion, hallow eyes no longer dark as they shimmered with the light of the snow. "You make absolutely no sense." The child muttered before he turned his back on Jack, standing and softly patting off his slightly past nee length shorts, "you're like an artless snowflake."

"Artless!" Jack gapped, quickly grabbing a snowflake as it fluttered to the ground, "snowflakes may be a part of nature—and are thus natural—" Rion poked the snow with a shoe, twirling his foot around in order to keep himself from laughing, "—but they are anything but simple!"

And thus the rant began, Jack going on and on about how much detail was put into each and every snowflake—that, Rion dully noted, lasted no more than a second in his hands—and how beautiful they were.

Standing in the snow, the death-child stared at what appeared to be thin air. And not once did he shiver, even as the wind picked up just so and played with his short-sleeve hoodie.

Eventually Jack's rant came to an end (its length being entirely blamed on North) and it was time for the two to depart, Jack back to Jamie and Rion to…wherever the child went.

"Where do you live?" the winter's child randomly asked, head tilted up and eyes closed.

"Where do you?" the death-child countered, hallow eyes—no longer reflecting the snow's light, for the light was hidden by clouds—watching silently as a mouse ran towards them, accompanied by a cat as they ran from a stray pack of dogs.

"Well," Rion whispered to himself, though the wind carried it swiftly to Jack's awaiting ears, "isn't that a strange sight."

In a blink Jack had the dogs trapped in a frozen prison cell, standing proudly atop it's strangely intricate glory as he leaned on his staff, watching laughingly as Rion tried his hardest to stay still while a cat and mouse used him as a jungle gym, jumping from one part of his body to the next until they found there preferred perch: the mouse in dirty blond hair and the cat wrapped around the boys neck like a scarf.

"Well, well, well," Jack laughed while tapping his staff upon the cage, creating an ice slide that, after he opened the prison cell, sent the stray dogs skittering to some random place outside of town. "Looks like you're loved—mister animal man."

"That was lame." Was the all too bland response, sending Jack into another bout of laughter.

Which thus sent Rion's eyebrow twitching, "don't you need to go somewhere?" the death-child sighed after a while, mouse squeaking and cat yawning in agreement.

"Alright, I'm going, I'm going." Jack laughed again, only with far more control, as he rose in the air, the winds eager to carry him back to Jamie, to home, "See you later deathmon*!"

And Jack Frost was gone.

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**A/N: Due to the three reviews I received I decided to at least attempt to continue, so here's the second chap. However, should people still wish for me to continue after this, then please send another three reviews. **

***the best friend Jack mentioned is from my one-shot "The Song I Sing"**

***"deathmon"—the reasoning behind this name is…almost non-existent, but I figured that the characters from Digimon loved cute cuddly things (monsters and animals alike), so why on earth not? Besides, the main characters from Digimon always wind up having all sorts of creatures liking them…**


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer: I own naughta**

**A/N: Alright, It's been decided that this fic is becoming the latest addition to my ROTG collection…in other words, it's joining in on the story, connecting. To all you old readers, favoriters, and followers, this does not mean you have to run for the hills. You do not have to read any of my previous stories to still enjoy this one…but it might be confusing. **

**However, this does mean this story is going to include yaoi, JamiexJack. This is your one and only warning, so if you still want to read, please don't complain. **

**Also, due to the switch, there is going to be a lot of time jumping for the next few chapters. **

**Chapter three: Comfort? **

Jack hadn't thought about it, really, the reason why he kept his meetings with Rion secret; perhaps it was because the child held a certain air of uniqueness, a certain feel of…well, something. Jack wasn't all too sure what it was, and, quite frankly, at that moment he couldn't really bring himself to care.

He'd just learned of Jamie's inevitable death.

Alright, so he hadn't _just_ learned of it, but no one beyond Sandy, the Songstress (as he had come to call the wind who danced and twirled by his side), and himself needed to know that the young winter spirit had just spent a good portion of the week balling in the Sand Man's arms.

Nonetheless, the pain was still there, and he didn't quit feel like dealing with Tooth's worried buzzing or Bunny's rough attempt's at comfort, least of all North's sad eyes and all too warm and bone crushing hug. He could have stayed with Sandy, but the little man had already done so much for him, far, far too much, and it would be just plain out selfish if Jack were to ask to stay another week, even if the Guardian of Dreams would have agreed without a moment's hesitation.

So here he was. At the park he used to visit every day during winter since he first spotted Rion.

Had the dead-child (death-child, either one worked, really, but death wasn't something Jack wanted to think about at the moment) missed him? Had he waited in the cold, staring up into the sky with those ever blank eyes, searching for the slightest glimpse of brown and blue and white? Before Jack could dive too far into quilt a voice, soft, lined with only the barest amount of confusion and perhaps a sprinkle of joy, called from behind, "Jack? You're back?"

Only the ever calming _something_ in the boy's voice kept Jack from whirling around and freezing him on the spot. "Don't startle me like that!"

"Ah, right," Rion nodded, empty midnight blue eyes never leaving Jack's dull ones, "that's supposed to be you're job."

A question was hidden in those words. A small probing, but Rion had an air of understanding that was at once annoying and yet comforting, and he did not speak further. Instead, he took Jack's hand (something that startled the Guardian greatly, for the child had always avoided any and all physical contact) and led him to the fountain at the center of the park. Always, always, ignoring passerby's, who, if Jack would have cared to notice, were just as obviously ignoring them.

"Where are your followers?" Jack asked after the pair had sat in silence for some time, eyes roaming Rion's hair, waiting for a small mouse to peak its little head out from within, and then wondering to the frosty ground, expecting a cat to pop out at any moment and curly up on the child's shoulders.

"Why are you here?"

"To spend—"

"Why," Rion interrupted, eyes suddenly blazing, shinning with an inner light that flashed with images of white, white, _white_, "are you _here_?"

Though Jack knew almost nothing of the child, Rion knew almost everything about him, for Jack simply couldn't stand the _silence _that befell the park late in the evenings_, _and talked, and talked, hoping, wishing, it would simply go away.

So Jack knew, with sickening clarity, that the child had seen right through him, _again _(for they had had similar conversations whenever Jack would get into a fight with Jamie, or when Jack simply couldn't stand the sight of his kiddo growing up…).

Why aren't you with Jamie?

Why aren't you talking with the Guardians?

Why aren't you _spending time with the one you're about to lose?_

"I—" Jack choked, looking away, unable to stare into the midnight orbs that shone with a far too bright star, "I don't know what to do, Jamie's going to die, it's going to be painful, and, and, I can't do anything about it! If I interfere then he's simply going to die another way! I don't, I don't!"

The warm hand, softly pressed atop his head, threw Jack off, "If you cannot save you're loves life, then you can at least save him from the pain."

"But how?" the winter spirit all but cried, not caring how awkward it must look for the small child to be lifting his hand up far above his head, stretching, simply to console the Guardian, though, at an earlier date, he might have joked about how ridiculous Rion looked, simply to get a rise from the all too silent child.

"Would you rather have Jamie die painfully at the hands of some stranger? Or would you prefer him to die peacefully, by your hands?"

They both knew the answer, so when Jack jumped into the cool embrace of the winds without a second thought, neither was surprised. Perhaps, Jack would contemplate later, that was his reason for seeking Rion out, for a simple, honest, answer, uncaring of how wrong it may sound, for the child knew of the darkest reaches of the heart, and he cared little.

It was only after Jack had begged MiM to allow his plan, and only after he had a calming dinner at North's, that Jack noticed Rion never answered his original question, and that he had never given the boy any hints as to what troubled him, but, perhaps the animals had gone back to their true homes, and, maybe, Jack had been a wee bit obvious, perhaps he'd mumbled without thinking. It didn't matter, not now, not when he had to steel himself for a very, very painful task.

"_He'd like that," _Tooth had whispered, being the first to recover from Jack's blurted out plan, _"to die in your arms_…"

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**A/N: Oh my, another one, *cough* anyway, feel free to tell me what you think, rather you hate it or not, I welcome any and all feedback. However, from here on, I'll only update after I have received 2, two, and I repeat, 2 reviews. Nonetheless, thank you all so very, very much for actually reading this story (weather you're soon to be leaving it or not). **


	4. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer: I own naughta **

**Chapter four: Laughter…**

It had become a slightly guilty secret, running to Rion. For while the other Guardian's were embodiments of all that was good, Jack was…well…he was a child of winter, and winter killed just as often as it brought smiles.

Sure, he'd never kill purposefully—he only brought the winter, he didn't exactly control what happened after—but that didn't change the fact that Jack's snow buried people alive, made them lose limbs, killed off poor hungry animals and starving kids, and so many other horrible things.

It was only natural, really, that his heart would have a dark ting to it, that deep inside he was beyond thrilled to watch people squirm and struggle against his snow and ice. It was fun, it was _funny_, how pathetic humans looked.

But Jack could never, would never, express these thoughts to the other Guardians—for the thoughts were shared with the Nightmare King after all, and wouldn't that be awful? if they abandoned him because he thought like the enemy?

The Songstress, his ever constant companion, always argued otherwise, declared that they would understand, that the Guardians past's weren't as full of rainbows and sunshine as Jack made them out to be. But ever since Jamie died, cold corpse smiling, _smiling_, within Jack's frozen arms as they plunged into the lake, the Guardian of Fun's thoughts had become a wee bit jumbled, a tab bit darker, as if something had cracked, and some dark smog was released, covering Jack's thoughts and sticking to his brain, invading his heart…

"You know, even if _you_ can't interact with him, that doesn't mean you can't interact with the environment _around_ him." Rion stated, breaking Jack out of his thoughts, dull blue (for they would stay that way, dull, whenever he'd come to Rion and blabber on about his darkest thoughts), meeting blank midnight, "Try altering his environment. Not enough to be noticed, but, surely, a mouse—"something flashed in those blank eyes, a deep sadness, but Jack had long since given up asking after the whereabouts' of those long ago animals, "—yes, a mouse would surely go unnoticed."

"A mouse?"

"Well," Rion looked away, rubbing the back of his neck (a habit, Jack noted, the boy had picked up from him), "It doesn't have to be a mouse…"

"Ah," a grin slid its way across Jack's face, as it always did by the end of his dark ramblings, as if those midnight orbs would stare into the dirtied snow and then comb out all that tainted it, leaving nothing more than the shimmering white that brought smiles and cheer to so many faces. "So I can make a miniature figurine of you and have it dance like a ballerina?"

"I highly doubt that would make Jamie happy."

"Oh, I have no doubt that it would send him into a bought of laughter."

"Don't you dare!" Those blank eyes flared, as they always did whenever anything concerning ballerina's was mentioned, like blazing stars, angry yet sad, and perhaps this was another bit of the guilty secret, being able to poke fun at such a silly—yet apparently hurtful—weakness.

"Perhaps I could dress you up in a Toto as well…" Jack laughed, jumping into the air as the dead-child took a swing at him, barely raising an eyebrow at the heat that radiated off the extended hand. For the child had opened up to Jack in way's beyond words, letting small hints drop every now and again on how purely _wrong_ his existence was. But it was due to this feeling of _wrong _and _shouldn't exist_ that allowed Jack to feel so comfortable spewing his darkest thoughts and feelings to the child, and that allowed him to take pleasure in his darker side of _fun_ without any repercussions, for the dead-child would push back, and he, too, would join in on the game of striking ones weaknesses, of pulling them out and dangling them, mocking.

"Well," Rion spoke with a huff, a small smile a lighting his lips (a smile that Jack had grown accustomed to picking out, and the child had long since stopped hiding) as he looked up into dancing blue, "perhaps you could sing him to sleep."

"No."

"Ah," the smile grew, the light in midnight eyes dancing like a cackling skeleton, "but surely a child as young as Jamie would love to hear you sing."

Yes, Jamie had been reborn, around ten years after his death he was brought back. Currently he was no more than five years old, and, due to the deal with MiM, Jack was not allowed to interfere with Jamie's life. He'd dealt with it, silently, for those five years (alright, so not completely silent, as he'd cry to Sandy and gush to Tooth, then brag to Bunny and whine to North, all about his little love, his cute kiddo, his adorable Jamie…). After Jamie's lonely cry, however, Jack couldn't stand it anymore, it had been the kiddo's fifth birthday, and yet he had been in tears, why? because someone had given him an evil Jack Frost plushie* (when he'd described what it looked like Rion had fallen into a silent fit of laughter, which was swiftly ended when Jack had tossed a snowball into his face).

After the incident he'd flown to Rion, the ever patient (and seemingly never aging) child, complaining of his problem and looking for an honest, and perhaps rule breaking, answer (Jack had no doubt Tooth would help, but she too busy, Bunny would have simply laughed, North would have given a disapproving frown, and Sandy…Sandy would have offered to knock out everyone so he'd have had a wee bit of time with Jamie, but MiM would have been pissed by such an action, and thus Jack wouldn't dare ask for his help).

"But you have such a wonderful voice." Rion lightly laughed, dodging a snowball and ignoring how it hit a poor business man in the head, "Surely a singing ice version of yourself would lighten his mood greatly."

With a growl Jack threw another snowball, almost regretting the time he'd come across the dead-child, covered with blood, lying in the snow, and simply sung with the child's head in his lap, granting Rion's wish of not wanting to be taken anywhere—or seen, for that matter.

It had been shocking, when, the next morning, Jack had found out that he, too, had fallen asleep, and that the boy had fully recovered in that time, standing over him while offering up an ice-cream cone, a small mocking smile on his lips, _"So, you can sing?"_

"That idea," Jack sighed eventually, after he'd hit everyone currently wandering the park at least once—except Rion, which annoyed him greatly—"might work."

"Of course it will."

"I hate you."

"Of course you do," the boy called in what Jack could have sworn was a sing-songy voice, but he wouldn't dare bring it to the boy's attention; it was another advancement, as far as Jack could see, in getting the boy to open up. But that didn't mean he wasn't going to get back at the death-child.

"And when I make my awesome ice-figure, I'll make another one of you—" at Rion's widening eyes Jack couldn't help but grin victoriously as he rose in the air, before shouting down, "In a Toto!"

The angry cry, the blast of energy sent towards his feet, was all the answer Jack noted before he flew off. Laughing and twirling in the air once more, as he felt as if a heavy _dark_ weight had been lifted off his shoulders.

…or pushed back into the abyss in which it came.

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**A/N: Thanks for the reviews! I was afraid the switch would be a tad bit weird…I know this chapter is. **

***I have been playing Shin Megami Tensei Nocturne, as such, that version of Jack Frost just wouldn't leave my head *laughs* that and the idea that Jamie would find that version of Jack scary is just hilarious. Though, he didn't really find it scary so much as it pulled at unknown heart strings and made him feel really, really lonely without **_**his**_** Jack Frost. **

**Beyond that, remember the majestic number two…**


	5. Chapter 5

**Disclaimer: I own naughta**

**Chapter five: Time  
**

Years after Jamie's second fifth birthday Jack had still been running to Rion (and gushing, bragging, whining, and crying to the other Guardians), but this reincarnation of Jamie had felt…different.

Perhaps it was simply because the people seemed to be more violent (for there was an overabundance of bullies this time around), or, perhaps, it was because this was the first time Cupcake almost killed someone (another kid at that). Then again, this was also the first time another spirit had attacked. A wolf spirit, Loup, had assaulted Jamie's town, driving him off had been the first fight Jack had in ages, which made him feel both old and rusty.

So, yeah, those differences' certainly had something to do with how little Jack went to visit Rion during the earlier times of Jamie's last reincarnation. But Jack hadn't even ran to him after Sophie's death, he'd stayed by Jamie's side, listening to his loves wails of pain, and he'd granted him one wish, _kill those responsible. _

Perhaps Jack should have gone to see the death-child, perhaps he should have ran and allowed Rion to (as Jack had begun to call it) absorb his darkness. Yes, maybe he should have allowed those blank eyes to comb his soul and ride the snow of the clinging smog. But he hadn't, and, quite frankly, as Jack sat on the balcony of North's workshop, he didn't regret such a decision.

Sure, it eventually lead him to killing others, tearing them to shreds (on two separate occasions), and, yeah, killing had been the last straw, and so he was no longer a Guardian. But, the decision had also lead him to having a makeshift human family (that was latter killed by Loup), and then a makeshift school life (that was also ruined by Loup), and now he had a not-so-makeshift relationship with Jamie…who had his memories (which had been suppressed) back!

Jack couldn't have been happier.

He'd learned a life lesson: don't rely solely on others to push away you're darkness.

However, as he stared up into the sky, Jack couldn't help but feel like he'd betrayed his silent friend. For Jamie was now seventeen and that meant, in essence, that Jack had abandoned Rion for a good fifteen years. Would the boy ever forgive him? How long had he waited? Was he still waiting?

"Jack," warm arms wrapped around his middle, drawing him into a warm hug as a soft, comforting breath tickled his ear, "what's wrong?"

Now, Jack had kept Rion a secret out of instinct, he didn't know why, exactly, couldn't pinpoint the reason (and neither could the Songstress), but he had felt it was necessary for everyone involved that the child's existence be kept on the down low. Even now, as his love, his Jamie, whom he'd sworn never to lie too, asked such a question, Jack felt compelled to lie. And he almost had. But he'd promised, they'd both promised, _no more lies, no more secrets_.

For it had been lies and secrets that had them caused so much pain.

"I…" Jack began, leaning his head back with a sigh, "I fear I might have hurt someone."

"Someone?"

"Someone you don't know, and you would have never known."

"Another lover?" was the semi-joking reply.

"No." Jack said with a sly smile, a gentle cocking of the head, "more like your son."

"My son!" Jamie squeaked, pulling back, causing Jack to laugh.

"Well, unless you've been sleeping around when I'm not looking, you don't have to worry."

"Well, who is it?" Jamie huffed, pouting.

"A boy," was the solemn reply as Jack looked off into the distance once more, "a silent, lonely boy, who—"_shouldn't exist_ "is a tad bit temperamental."

Jamie raised an eyebrow, "why haven't I heard of him before?"

"Because…" Jack gently shook his head before he rose, jumping into the sky, "why don't we go see him now?"

"Now?"

"That way you can tell for yourself." _Because I do not know. _

"How long has it been since you last saw him?" _How did you hurt him?_

"Fifteen years."

"Fifteen! Do the others know? If Tooth where to ever find out you abandoned a kid for that long there is no way you'd—"

"Survive? I know, but she doesn't know about him."

"And the reason is…something I can figure out myself?"

"Yep."

Jamie sighed, shrugging, before he, too, jumped into the air, wavering for just a bit (for he was still getting adjusted to the new powers) before he grinned. "Well, what are we waiting for?"

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"Are you sure this is the right place?" Jamie questioned warily, staring at the ruins of what could have maybe-possible-sorta been a park (it was hard to tell, what, with it looking like an army of bulls smashed through the trees, then a few bombs were set off, then an earthquake hit, quickly followed by a tornado of blood).

Jack didn't reply, to busy scrapping through the rubble and crying out in fear, "Rion! Rion are you there?"

There was no reply.

And Jack began to panic.

Flying everywhere (in a very Tooth like manner), the Snow Prince attempted to ignore the strewn bodies, telling himself over and over again, _Rion is alive, Rion is alive, he's fine, he's okay, and, no, that man isn't the one who dropped the cake, and no, that couple isn't the one he sent flying into trashcans. _

Jamie had just as little success, having barfed the moment his foot accidentally brushed against the corpse of a child, he was about ready to grab Jack and fly as far away from the horrendous sight as possible when a tired sigh came from behind, "you have horrid luck, to come on the very day this happened."

The sudden cry of "Rion!" was Jamie's only warning before Jack zoomed past him, clutching the newly identified child to his chest, "You're alright, you're alright." Jack cried, seeming not to notice how blood stained his clothes, or the blank, empty look in child's eyes. "Could you put me down?" Only by straining his ears could Jamie hear the slight annoyance in Rion's voice.

"And could you explain what's happened?"

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**A/N: Yeah, crappy, and a really big time skip too, but don't worry, no one's going to be solving the mystery of Rion anytime soon (though, perhaps that might be a source of woe). Beyond that, this chapter is the only exception to the rule, two reviews per chap, 2 reviews, and I'll update. **


	6. Chapter 6

**Disclaimer: I own naughta**

**Chapter six: The price of change**

_Recap: "And could you explain what's happened?"_

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"What's happened?" the dead-child blinked, tilting his head to one side in what would have been an innocent (and possibly cute) jester, if it weren't for the blood that matted his hair and stained his clothes, dripped from his fingers, and left a trail down his chin. "What happened was payment."

"Payment?" Jamie gasped, anger and sadness boiling up from his heart as he took in the sight of the park once more, eyes glancing over the body of a young girl, the stained head of a teddy bear, the clasped hands just barely visible through the rubble. "Payment for what?"

"That doesn't really matter." Jack interjected, once again securing Rion (who had squirmed out of his grasp) in his cold arms. "Not now at least."

"But—"

"Rion's hurt." But where they would go for treatment, Jack did not know. For the feeling that told him to keep Rion secret, urged him to keep him hidden, just like before. And although Jack had the ability to push the feeling (the strange knowing _something_) down for Jamie's sake, for keeping his promise with his love, Jack could not find that strength now.

_"You were supposed to be caught in an explosion and blown to bits," Jack laughed brokenly, "even though your body would be broken you'd live to suffer under the rubble for a good three days."_

The memory, sudden in its appearance, urgent in its presence, sent the lovers reeling from shock, and a great deal of emotional pain (brought on by the series of events that followed the memory, that took place due to said event).

"You cheated Fate." Rion supplied blandly from within Jack's arms, only one midnight eye visible due to Jack holding the child's face to his chest. "You'll notice that those who died here are those that existed during Jamie's original life."

The first question to spring forth in Jamie's mind was, ashamedly enough, _how old _are _you? _The second, with a tint of jealously, was _Jack knew you even back then? _The third, however, flew from his lips, "I don't know anyone here."

But Jack's flinch, the slight tightening of his grip on the death-child, the flickering of his eyes as they shoot from one corpse to the next, face paling more and more by the second, told the new immortal that his lover, at least, knew these people. This was not a good thing, as far as Jamie (or anyone else—if they were telling the truth) knew, _he_ (and his family and friends) where the only ones to reincarnate. The only ones _allowed_ to reincarnate—though, looking back at it now, perhaps that was a foolish notion, after all, he and Jack aren't the only lovers in existence to have a hard life—and he could imagine family members begging for the same thing, being granted the same thing (albeit, with lose of memories on all sides and less crazy wolves and random evil old people).

But, still, surly if something like this was going on (if it was what he thought—and Moon did he wish it wasn't, he didn't want to live with the knowledge that a young girl was born over and over again simply to die—each and every time—in an explosion) then why didn't the Guardians stop it? Why didn't MiM do something about it? _Why didn't Jack know?_

"Fate can be rather vindictive, and repetitive." Rion supplied, reading Jamie's thoughts (which would have made Jack smile in victory—for once not being on the receiving end—if he wasn't busy staring at the couple who he'd made fall back into a trashcan oh so long ago), "If Fate decreed that Jamie was to die in an explosion and suffer for three days under the rubble, then it better happen—and it would have. But because it didn't—", the boy's way of speaking, Jamie decided as he stared into those ever blank eyes, was disturbing, "—then everyone else Fate declared would die in said explosion will continue to die as such until Jamie dies along with them; exactly as Fate wanted him to die."

"But why me?" _Why hasn't anyone noticed?_

The boy blinked, midnight orbs shinning, twinkling stars scattered in the dark blue sky, as a small amused smile slide its way across his face (which he'd wormed from Jack's grip as the ex-Guardian stared at the corpses—eyes strangely and uncharacteristically blank), "Does it look like I have all the answers? This world, no matter how long I stay—or how many times I visit—remains a mystery to me."

Before Jamie could question the strange phrasing Jack grabbed his wrist and tugged (or tossed, depending on one's view) the three of them up into the air, the wind swiftly obeying a silent command and sweeping them toward someplace…apparently far away from the scene.

_About time_, Jamie inwardly groused before he turned to look at Jack, mouth opening in question, only to be shushed by the death-child, small, pale finger to his lips as his head peeked out from the confines of Jack's hoodie, midnight eyes once again void, yet pulsating with some silent power—a command that Jamie wasn't sure he would want to disobey. _Stay silent, follow._

Though, really, the child had no need to worry about Jamie following Jack, after all, his love had yet to release his wrist (which, although held in an iron gripe, was oddly comfortable), and Jamie had no intensions of wresting it from him.

Sighing, Jamie looked closely at Jack's face, then back to the child's, then proceeded to sigh again, he'd hoped to figure out the mystery of the kid Jack had left behind for a good fifteen years, hoped to convince him to introduce the child (which, at that time—and man did he feel silly thinking about it now—he had not believed to be a day older than ten—even though the kid was apparently attached to Jack, which would have meant the child was a good, maybe, six, five years old when he left) to the other Guardians—though, truthfully, he should start thinking of them as _the_ Guardians—but what Jamie found instead was…a cause for lots and lots of sighing.

For he too felt the sudden urge to keep the child secret; and even though the child was the only survivor of the explosion, even though he was the only one possibly capable of helping the Guardians figure things out (if they ever told the Guardians, that is), Jamie could not find it in himself to take the child to them, away, perhaps, but not to.

_I'd have liked to take that girl away, too_, came a random thought, and the memory of the girls corpse made him gag.

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**A/N: *laughs* thank you all so very much! Especially the two reviewers for chapter five (I won't name you 'cause you know who you are, and, well, I haven't done that in any part of this series, and I'm not going to start now—at least, I don't recall doing that). Beyond that however, I'm glad that I could inspire some of you to write again, that makes me feel positively giddy. **

**And, as always, remember the magic two! **


	7. Chapter 7

**Disclaimer: I own naughta**

**Chapter Seven: What lies in the darkness**

Jack, truthfully, hadn't the slightest idea where he was going, only _away_ and _safe_, and the wind did the rest, carrying out his will on its own, for which he was grateful, sadly, as he was unable to draw himself from the sight of torn bodies and blood, Jack was certain he'd crash. Something he wished to avoid at all costs, for while Rion was something _not human_ and Jamie was now immortal, thus meaning they'd both survive the crash, the ex-guardian wasn't sure he'd be able to stand seeing any of his loved ones hurt, not even from the tiniest scratch, for a long time.

The winter spirits two passengers remained silent, Rion's head burying itself in Jack's chest and Jamie's fingers intertwining with pale white, giving reassuring squeezes every now and again. Eventually they reached their destination, an abandoned house on the mountain side, surrounded by snow and blocked from sight by towering evergreens, small animals scattering as the two immortals gracefully landed—for Jamie had be practicing, though he still wasn't as graceful as Jack.

"Rion," the ex-guardian called softly, slowly lowering the child to the ground and watching fondly as midnight blue flickered up to his face before a small yawn, silent, made itself known, and small hands came up to rub at sleepy eyes. For while Rion was something _not human_, he was still a child, and thus needed sleep.

"Let's go in." Jamie suggested, stepping forward and opening the door, a small smile twitching at his lips when a squirrel planted itself on his shoulder. The inside was cold, though none noticed, and only the light frost already on the inside of the windows gave it away.

The inside was also rather dark, so Jamie wound up stumbling on furniture and a few other things Jack was unable to identify, though with the smooth way Rion practically hovered over to the coach, set in a room to the right, hinted that the child did.

"Tired?" Jack asked the room, his own eyes drooping, before Jamie grasped his arm in the dark and softly pulled him to another coach, pointed out by the half asleep child. "I think we all are." Jamie lightly laughed, "Hard not to be, after…that" Jack cringed, "and then the rather speedy departure."

Laughing slightly, with some strain, a sad hitch, Jack agreed and the lovers finally went to sleep on the coach across from the death-child, though not before Jack wondered, eyes sleepy slits, if he'd forgotten something.

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Sandy had been worried when the lovers had wondered off, sure, they did it often enough, so often, in fact, that no one else was worried, but he couldn't ignore the feeling, even if it was silly, even if the others where right and he was acting like a doting parent, he couldn't help it. Mrs. Bennett, currently sixty, had rubbed off on him.

Though, with a sigh, he had to acknowledge the fact that he hadn't the slightest idea of where to look, and after wandering around pointlessly for several hours, he was about to give up and simply concentrate on his work. However, some of his dream sand branched off into an entirely different direction, carrying dolphins and snowflakes, and he knew those dreams anywhere. Leaving behind sandlings to finish his work for him, Sandy followed the trail to a desolate home, dark and cold.

With a sigh, Sandy summoned a glowing ball of sand and silently entered the home, following the trail to a room off to the right, and sighing upon the sight of the lovers curled up together. Although it was a mystery as to why they were out here in the first place, the two were adventurers at heart, so it made some sense that they'd find an abandoned home. So long as they were alright, then everything was well.

Turning around the sand man almost jumped out of his skin (if it could be called that) when his light reflected off blank midnight blue eyes, "Who are you?" the child before him, covered in blood, asked.

Shaking his head in dismissal of the question Sandy motioned to the boy, drawing up a bandage above his head. The boy ignored him.

"Ah," the emotionless voice rang through the darkness, seeming to dance with it, "so you must be Sandy."

At the sand man's exclamation the boy blinked, motioning to the figures behind him, "Jack told me about you."

Now Sandy could only stare in question, before shaking his head and drawing up a bandage again, forcefully pointing at the child then gesturing about, allowing the golden shimmering ball of light to float in midair.

The boy shook his head, "I don't live here, no one does, and no one has, for a very, very long time, bandages are out of the question."

The Guardian let steam come out of his ears while he stomped his foot, once again gesturing around.

"I've already looked."

Then the sand man gestured to the cuddling lovers, then to himself, a question mark floating above his head.

"Taking me to see other Guardian's is a bad idea, even if it is to help."

The question mark increased in size.

"Jack talks about his family allot—" Sandy practically beamed at the term, "however, I shouldn't _be_ here, in this world," the boy quickly clarified.

Now several question marks danced. But the boy didn't answer, he only sighed, shaking his head and glancing at the floor, before turning on his heel, notably torching the ground, and walking into the shadows, far too much like Pitch for Sandy's liking.

Quickly following, floating over the mysterious burn, Sandy used his floating golden orb to bring light to the surroundings, increasing the intensity until the whole hall shone with it. Spotting an arm before it vanished around a corner Sandy speed up his pace and trailed after the mysterious boy who walked into another pitch black room.

The room was soon found to be the bathroom, door busted open, mirror cracked and splintered, sink stained, floor stained, toilet destroyed, and bath full of murky water tinged red and hair hanging off the back, attached to a skull, held in place by nothing more than a chain attached through the jaw.

A screeching sound startled the currently stunned Guardian, turning he found the child turning the sink knob, ever blank eyes staring directly at him and unblinking when, finally, the sink gave way, opening it's pipes and gurgling as what should have been water came from the faucet. If Sandy was capable of puking he would have done so, for instead of water came ground pieces of flesh, splashing into the sink, a stench suddenly filling the air and making the sand man hold his breath.

The boy let out a rather broken laugh at the sight, "Fate is rather vindictive, if things don't go his way, _exactly _his way, then he eliminates the problem, using any means necessary." Walking past Sandy the boy extinguished the golden light with a flick of his wrist, "beware the light, for it reveals the truth hidden in the dark, and you beings of good haven't the slightest idea what that means."

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**A/N: Yeah, yeah, I have yet to receive my two reviews, but I'm posting this up for a reason, I'll be busy for a whole year (give or take a few months), and I won't be able to write for any of my stories, so I'm updating them all today, as a parting gift if you will. I, of course, will return, but in a year or so, so it'll be awhile before I update anything. Hopefully, when I come back I'll see at least one review; otherwise I might just leave this fic as it is, which would be sad, considering I absolutely love writing it...  
**


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